


I'm only Thirsty on days that end in Y

by Fairia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fic, sexxx, there will be prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairia/pseuds/Fairia
Summary: Discord was complaining there isn't enough Kidge smut. Guess we have to fix that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Relationships: Keith/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 16
Kudos: 113
Collections: VESPA26 READS NSFW





	1. Prompt 1: Glitz n' Glam

**Author's Note:**

> Glitz n' Glam: Pidge and Keith get drunk together at the Garrison's New Year's Eve party. _Then_ the real party starts...
> 
> Warning: There is drunk sex in this fic. If that's a problem for you, might want to give this one a miss.
> 
> Now with art by the lovely LuceCiel! https://twitter.com/luceciel_art/status/1226696159374147584?s=21

Pidge stared into her drink and desperately wished to be back in her lab. Or, better yet, at home in her pajamas.

Parties had never really been her thing. Military parties, with its subtle blend of elbow-rubbing and ass-kissing, had _really_ never been her thing. This year’s shindig was being hosted at the base hotel, which, since the Garrison was one of the most important bases on Earth, was used to hosting top military personnel and all of the bells and whistles that came with them. 

So far the only bright side had been the possibility of seeing her old team mates — since she had to be here, surely they did too, right?

Also, the free drinks.

“Katie,” her mom scolded as Pidge drained her third champagne flute. “Show some restraint.”

“Restraint is for people who don’t have to wear heels,” Pidge retorted. “And if they wanted people to show restraint, they shouldn’t have had an open bar.”

“Cheers to that,” Matt grumbled, appearing at her elbow with a off-center tie, a disgruntled expression, and looking vaguely like he’d shoved a fork into an electrical socket. Obligingly, Pidge tapped her empty flute to his half-full one as Colleen rolled her eyes. 

“What happened to you?” Pidge asked, eyeing her brother as he tried to finger comb his hair back into submission. He only partially succeeded.

“Romelle thought an appropriate greeting involved leaping onto my back and ruffling my hair. Violently,” Matt replied. “Apparently, Lance told her that it’s a gesture of affection here on Earth.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” Pidge sniggered.

“I think she’s just trying to get your attention, dear,” Colleen added innocently.

Matt rolled his eyes, oblivious. “Well, she got _everyone’s_ attention when she nearly popped out of her dress. Who decided to put her into a dress _that_ low-cut, anyway?”

Pidge’s eyes slid to towards her mother. Matt blinked, then stared at Colleen, whose cheeks pinked obligingly. “It’s not that bad. It’s an illusion neckline.”

Pidge bit her lip to keep from commenting — she had seen Romelle’s dress, and she could definitely concur that the neckline _was_ an illusion.

Matt’s lips twitched as he handed Pidge his glass. “Then she’s a hell of a magician. Now if you’ll pardon me,” he said, gesturing at the disheveled mess of hair half-yanked out of the low tail he’d smoothed it into earlier, “I think I need to try to straighten this out in the restroom.” 

Pidge saluted her brother with his glass as he turned and left, sniggering as he garnered a variety of looks as he wound his way through the crowd. “Still trying to set them up?”

“Romelle is a sweet girl,” Colleen said. Which was no answer at all, but still all the answer Pidge needed.

“He’s not ready, mom,” she said quietly.

“I suppose not,” Colleen agreed sadly, then turned to eyeball the champagne flutes her daughter was still holding. “How about I—”

Pidge tipped the glass back, letting the fizzing alcohol slide down her throat and enjoying her mother’s expression of dismay.

“Katie, really?”

“You took me out of my pajamas. You put me in this dress. I’m wearing _high heels.”_ Pidge gestured to the strappy silver heels with a hand still holding the empty glass. “Yes, mom, _really._ ”

Colleen looked torn between expaseration and amusement. “I’m not sure which one of us is the old woman.”

“Go have fun ogling the hot uniformed men with Nadia and Krolia, you party animal,” Pidge said glibly. “Commiserate with your hopefully future daughter-in-law about your son’s bullheaded refusal to see the light. I? Am going to the bar. Maybe my comfy sweater is in the bottom of a bottle.”

“Krolia isn’t ogling: she’s looking for hidden weapons,” Colleen retorted primly, trying and failing to keep a straight face as Pidge sniggered, both women sharing a grin before Pidge turned to leave.

“Come find us later, dear,” Colleen called as Pidge headed back towards the bar. (The wobble was from the _heels,_ dammit, she wasn’t that drunk. Yet.) “We’ll ring in the new year together! And I want to introduce you to Sam’s new assistant! Have fun!”

“Yippie,” Pidge muttered, then grimaced at the stab of guilt that followed the statement.

She loved her mother, she did, they just...didn’t see eye-to-eye on things. Like parties, and her mother’s fretting over her and Matt still being frustratingly unwed with no children.

“I’m twenty-five, not fifty,” Pidge muttered to her empty glasses as she set them on the counter.

“Good to hear that you still know your age,” an amused voice said next to her. 

Pidge blinked, looking up to take in the familiar face in an unfamiliar outfit. “Keith! Where did you come from?”

“I watched you walk up,” Keith said.

The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled faintly with the motion as his glass covered his smile. He was leaning against the bar top, absolutely relaxed in his suit, neck tie already loosened and dark hair pulled back into his usual tail, trailing down his back.

He was unfairly handsome, if you asked Pidge. (Which, admittedly, nobody had, ever, but she still thought it occasionally. Privately.) Keith had always been good-looking, even as a gangly teenager, when his limbs were too long and his hands and feet too big for the rest of him. Even when he’d hid his hurt and anxiety behind anger and indifference, and reacted in all the wrong ways to other people’s emotions.

Pidge had noticed his looks, of course, in the same way she’d seen Lance’s bright eyes and tan skin, Shiro’s biceps, and appreciated Hunk’s broad shoulders and solid presence. And while she had occasionally appreciated how good-looking all her teammates were, she’d had little time for thoughts of romantic entanglements, when her family was missing and the fate of the universe was resting on their immature shoulders. 

Still, if teenage angst had looked good on him, Keith wore adult confidence equally well. And, she noted, glancing down at the hand resting atop the bar he was leaning against, he’d finally grown into his hands.

“Seriously?” Pidge frowned down at the empty champagne flute. “Huh.”

“How much have you had?” Keith asked, swirling his drink idly as the bartender made his way down the bar.

“Not enough to be wearing heels,” Pidge said staunchly, grinning at the bartender as he approached.

“Can I get you something?” he asked.

“Um,” Pidge glanced at the champagne glasses that had been circling the floor and grimaced. She looked at Keith. “What are you having?”

“Draft,” he replied.

Pidge grimaced again. “Surprise me,” she told the bartender. 

“Beer, liquor, or cocktail?” the guy asked.

“Cocktail, sweet,” Pidge said. “Please make me forget that I’m wearing ankle-breaking shoes and that my mom is trying to introduce me to my dad’s ‘assistants’ in a thinly-veiled attempt to see me wed before the year is out.”

Keith choked, coughing as the bartender threw back his head and laughed. “I know just the thing,” he promised. 

“Before the year is out?” Keith asked incredulously. 

“If she had her way,” Pidge muttered darkly. “She keeps trying to throw guys at me, hoping one will stick. Rizavi is her enabler.”

“Rizavi is a troll,” Keith muttered.

“Truth.” Pidge rolled her eyes. “But what about you, what have you been up to? Aren’t you supposed to be in uniform or something?”

“Eh,” Keith waggled his hand. “I’m not strictly here as a representative of the Blade. Kolivan is.”

“Is that why your mom was wearing that…” Pidge’s face twisted as she tried to find a word. “Dress?”

Keith binked. “Yes? It is a dress? I’m not sure why that was a question.”

“I’m not sure how she made satin look _terrifying_ ,” Pidge shrugged, recalling Krolia’s pretty satin sheath dress, with delicate beading around the bodice and hem. And while Korlia was objectively one of the most attractive women Pidge had ever seen, it looked absolutely ridiculous on her. “I think she could slit my throat with her clutch.”

Keith’s lips twitched. “She probably could.”

“I know, _right?_ ” Pidge gestured in the general direction of the crowded hall behind them.

“Don’t worry, she won’t,” Keith said solemnly, but the corners of his eyes were crinkling in a way Pidge knew meant he was laughing. “She likes you.”

“Oh, well, thank God,” Pidge muttered, turning to the bartender, who was sliding drinks onto the bar. “You’re back!”

“I am,” the bartender (Alex, Pidge saw on his name tag) said cheerfully. “And I come bearing alcohol.”

“My hero,” Pidge muttered, and Alex winked at her as he settled several glasses onto the bartop. “What’cha got?”

“In honor of your request and your dress, I have two mind erasers and a midori sour,” Alex said. “Made with Oklarian U’chata instead of traditional Earth vodka. It’s stronger,” he added at their blank looks. “Also, water.”

“Two?” Pidge pointed at the dark-colored drinks in the lowball glasses. 

“One for your friend,” the bartender gestured at Keith. “So the lady doesn’t have to drink alone.”

“Oh, I came over here totally, one-hundred precent prepared to drink alone,” Pidge said cheerfully, sliding the glass over to Keith, “but I will happily drink with a friend. Thanks!”

“The trick is to drink it through the straw as fast as you can,” Alex informed them helpfully as they picked up the cups. “It’s supposed to give you a head rush.”

“Neat. Ready?” Pidge asked, turning to Keith.

Keith lifted his cup, holding it out and smiling. “To friends.”

“To friends,” Pidge agreed, tapping her glass lightly against his….then pulled her glass back, shoving the straw into her mouth and sucking as quickly as she could, ignoring the faint burn of the alcohol. She wasn’t even surprised to see that Keith had done the same thing, both of them racing to finish their drink first. 

“Done!” Keith cheered, glass hitting the bartop with a _thunk_ a full three seconds before Pidge heard the tell-tale rattling of ice in the bottom of her cup.

“Oh, whatever,” Pidge gasped, swallowing the last of the liquor and pulling back. “You su— _whoa.”_

“I know,” Keith cackled, “that was pretty good.”

“It was,” Pidge agreed as the room completed it’s spin and settled once more. “...want to do it again?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“And I’m sitting there, just like, trying to shovel food in my face as fast as I can because I want dinner to be _over_ , and freaking Dar...Dee...Um, _that guy_ , is all ‘You can’t _do_ that, Katie, there are _rules,_ ’” Pidge said, miming her unfortunate date’s snobby attitude. She spared a moment to hope he wasn’t at the party, then decided that she didn’t care. 

Keith snorted into his drink, tilting precariously on his stool. “Clearly that guy didn’t know you very well.”

“Well, that _is_ the purpose of a date,” Pidge informed him loftily. “To, like, assess compatibility and...stuff.” 

“Yeah, but, that guy like...did he _not_ know you were a paladin? How did he think you got that job, exactly?” Keith asked. 

“I dunno.” Pidge shrugged. “By following the rules, I guess.”

“Oh my God,” Keith sniggered. 

“The _best_ part though, was when he asked me what my degree was in,” Pidge said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “And I was like ‘ _Well, I don’t technically have one, but if you give me a minute I can make one_.’ I don’t think he even waited for the waiter to bring the check, he went and _flagged the guy down_.”

Keith cracked up, nearly tipping off his stool and catching himself on the bar. “Holy— Oh, man, ow. I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in...in _ever.”_

They’d been drinking for… Well, Pidge wasn’t sure how long exactly, but _a while_ now. Alex the bartender had become their personal alcohol guru, keeping their water glasses topped up and bringing them new things to try. A plate of appetizers from the buffett had appeared at some point and Keith had taken off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of the chair, giving everyone the pleasure of seeing the way the fabric stretched across his shoulders, the deep purple vest accentuating his trim waist.

“Did you pick that because it’s, like, _Marmora_ purple?” Pidge asked skeptically, raising her voice to be properly heard and gesturing to his outfit with her glass. The liquid inside sloshed precariously. 

“I mean...kinda?” Keith shrugged. “I’m in this weird position, right? Like, I’m human—mostly, I know, don’t give me that look,” he said, jabbing a finger at Pidge as she opened her mouth. “But most people on this planet, like, think of me as being a paladin, and part of the Garrison. So, I am. But I’m also part of Marmora. I’m wearing, like...a bunch of hats.”

Pidge tried to imagine Keith balancing a stack of hats atop his head, and snorted.

“It also coordinated with mom’s dress,” Keith added thoughtfully.

“What?” Pidge asked, leaning in more to try to hear him better. The volume in the room had risen along with the amount of alcohol consumed, and Keith and Pidge were now leaning in to try to hear each other properly. 

“Nothing,” Keith said, pressing his lips together in a way Pidge knew meant it definitely was something (probably something embarrassing) and that he didn’t want to repeat it.

She narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”

“Um.” Keith drained his glass and stood up abruptly. “Well! I need to use the facilities.”

“Same.” Pidge finished off the drink in her hand. “Maybe after we can find somewhere quieter to talk?”

Keith stared at her for a moment, then barked out a laugh. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“What?” Pidge squinted up at him, setting the empty glass down on the bar and standing.

Or, trying to. 

Pidge cried out as she wobbled precariously, one ankle tilting alarmingly as she tried to balance on the thin heel attached to the shoe. Warm hands came up to cup her elbows even as she gripped the edge of the bar. 

“You alright?” Keith asked, supporting her as she righted herself. “You didn’t have that much to drink, did you?”

“No,” Pidge was feeling fuzzy and a little lose-limbed, but she wasn’t _that_ drunk. “I hate heels!” she said, leaning in closer to his ear to be heard.

“You gonna make it out of here?” Keith asked, glancing down at her feet trepidatiously.

“I mean…” Pidge straightened and Keith reluctantly let her go. She tried to take a step, and wobbled. “No. Gimmie your elbow.”

“Why don’t you just take them off?” Keith held out his arm, letting her clutch at it as they made their way towards the doors. The bathrooms, thank goodness, were just outside the ballroom, and Pidge was happy to lean on him as they made their way towards the dual sets of double-doors. 

“Are you kidding?” Pidge unclenched her fingers from his shirt to jerk her thumb behind her, only tottering slightly with the motion. “My _mom_ is out there. And. And she, like, has a _sense_ for these things? She’ll probably hunt me down just to scold me.”

“Yeah, but I can’t go into the bathroom with you,” Keith pointed out as he led them outside the room, his words suddenly too-loud in the far quieter foyer. Several people amongst the small groups milling around outside turned to stare at them.

“Oops,” Pidge giggled as Keith’s cheeks turned ruddy.

“But, seriously, shoes,” Keith continued, gesturing to her feet.

Pidge made a face. “If you think there’s any way I’m walking into a public restroom barefoot, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Keith’s eyebrow winged up, and he straightened, gesturing to the door imperiously. “Well then, after you.”

Pidge wobbled a bit, then sent him a triumphant grin when she managed step to the door unaided. Keith snorted and turned towards the men’s room door.

Getting into the restroom was pretty easy, she just leaned on the door and let her weight do the rest. She navigated the carpeted sitting room in the entrance (what was even the purpose of that?) successfully and made it onto the tiled area with little trouble. The clack of women’s shoes (mostly heels) competed with the sounds of toilets flushing, the rush of water from spigots and the woosh and hum from air blowing from the hand dryers attached to the walls. A few women were re-applying their makeup in the mirror, and Pidge nodded at them cordially as she emerged from the stall and made her way to the sink. When her ankle tried to roll and she wobbled, they offered vaguely sympathetic smiles as she gripped the sink for balance.

“Glad to see you didn’t break your neck,” Keith asked from his place, leaning against the wall as she emerged.

“I have the grace of a cat,” Pidge sniffed haughtily, but the effect was ruined when she tried to step away and wobbled once more.

“A drunk cat,” Keith remarked, catching her elbow and tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. 

“I’m not _that_ drunk!” Pidge protested. “I’ve only had… um…”

“Uh-huh,” Keith said sardonically.

“Shut up! I’m counting,” Pidge grumbled. “Can we go find some place to...I don’t know, sit or something?”

“Yeah, let’s go...find some place. There’s, like, lounges and stuff around,” Keith said, gesturing vaguely to the hotel atrium with his free hand. At Pidge’s grimace he added “there’s also my room.”

“Your room?” Pidge squinted up at him.

“Yeah… I don’t really have a house or anything here,” Keith shrugged. 

“You have...chairs? In your room?” Pidge blinked in confusion, then smirked. “Huh. Moving up in the world, Kogane.”

“And you’re still short,” Keith snarked back. “Seriously, have you ever even grown?”

“Hey!” Pidge elbowed his ribs. “I’ve grown plenty. Just not, you know, since I was seventeen or something.”

“Short…” Keith sing-songed tauntingly.

“Excuse me?” Pidge gestured at Keith angrily. “Weren’t you like, _two inches_ taller than me or something?”

“I mean, maybe a decade ago,” Keith smirked. “But unlike you, _I grew._ ”

“Guess I should get stuck on the back of a dimension-traveling space whale,” Pidge grumbled, leaning against his arm as her balance wavered again.

“You should just take off the shoes,” Keith said.

“Nu-uh. My mom will yell,” Pidge insisted.

“You’re going to break your ankle.”

“No I won’t. Sprain it, maybe, but in order to _break_ it I would need to fall with at _least_ —”

“I could carry you.”

“No.”

“Well, we need a solution,” Keith said. “Because if you lean any harder on my arm, you’re going to rip the sleeve or yank my shoulder out of joint or something.”

“Cry baby,” Pidge shot back. “I am not being carried out of here like some kind of damn damsel.”

Keith chewed his lip and glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye. “I could...give you a piggy back ride.”

Pidge paused. That sounded oddly appealing, but… “Mom.”

“Is not here,” Keith pointed out. “And I can get us to the elevator a lot faster if you’re not trying to _kill yourself,_ Pidge.”

“That’s not very dignified, Mr. Person-who-wears-lots-of-hats,” Pidge pointed out. 

Keith snorted derisively. “When have we ever been dignified?”

Surreptitiously, Pidge glanced around the atrium. True to his word, Colleen did not appear to be nearby, waiting to scold her daughter for breach of etiquette. 

“Good point; let’s do it,” she announced, letting go of Keith’s arm and waiting for him to run and crouch down enough so she could brace on his shoulders and jump up on his back. 

“Holy crow, my skirts just rode way up,” Pidge squeaked as the cool lobby air hit the tops of her thighs. 

“Seriously?” She could hear the grin in his voice, so she jabbed him with her heel, gratified at his _oomph_ as the hit connected.

“Don’t be an ass,” she scolded, then clutched at his neck and pointed imperiously over his shoulder. “Away, my steed!”

“Yeah, no, not galloping,” Keith informed her, laughing. He did walk quickly towards the elevators, though, and that was really all she could ask. 

Pidge shut her eyes when the world tilted alarmingly, burying her face against his collar and inhaling. The scent was cool and sharp and vaguely spicy. “Are you wearing cologne?”

“Yeah? Why? Does it smell bad?” Keith’s forward momentum had paused. “If it does, blame Shiro — he picked it out.”

“No.” Pidge hesitated. “It smells...nice. Why’d you stop?” She kicked him lightly with her heel. “Keep going.”

“Just a sec, I gotta wait for the doors.”

Pidge cracked open one eye, peering at the elevator doors. Their reflections were warped in the shiny silver metal, but she could see Keith’s frame and her own pale legs wrapped around his waist, silver heels glinting in the overhead lights. “You look like you have four legs.”

Keith cocked his head. “Yeah, kinda,” he said, as the door dinged and slid open silently. 

“Ohh, fancy,” Pidge remarked, hooking her chin over his shoulder and watching him punch in the top number on the pad.

“Perks of being an intergalactic authority figure,” Keith said wryly.

Pidge snorted. “Is that what you are? I always thought you were just kind of a smartass.”

Keith shrugged, jostling her. “Well, authority-figure adjacent. Also, Shiro’s buddy.”

“Oh my God, _Shiro_ ,” Pidge giggled as the door slid open and Keith moved out into the plush-looking hallway. “Intergalactic _golden boy._ ”

“‘A role model for youth everywhere,’” Keith quoted. 

Pidge sniggered; it was a popular recruitment slogan with the Garrison, and caused the man in question no small amount of embarrassment. “Have you ever said that to his face?”

“Every chance I get,” Keith said solemnly, pausing in front of a door and holding his arm out, jiggling his wrist until a slim metal band embossed with the hotel’s logo appeared from under his sleeve. Keith held his wrist over the door, which clicked obligingly as he locks disengaged. 

“He turns _so red,_ ” Pidge giggled happily as Keith opened the door and strode inside, turning and depositing her into a couch. 

He had an actual _suite_ , she saw, complete with mini kitchen and living area. Two stuffy-looking chairs flanked the couch, and a generic coffee table had a leather-bound informational book sitting on it. A desk with a terminal was off to the side, Keith’s portable computer already docked in it, and there was a door off to the side that probably led to the bedroom area. The main lights were off, but somebody had thoughtfully turned on a side table lamp, so the room was suffused with a dim, golden light.

“Swanky,” Pidge commented, leaning back in the chair and studying her knees. 

The stockings she was wearing were thigh-high, and she could just see the edges of the decorative elastic lace that was holding them up. It was kind-of-almost the same pattern as the lace overlay on her dress, she mused, pulling the lace up to the stocking top to compare.

It was a testament to how much alcohol she’d consumed, that having her dress casually hiked up over her thighs didn’t even seen odd until she heard Keith mutter “Jeez, Pidge.”

“What?” she asked, glancing up at him, where he shifted awkwardly as he hovered in the middle of the room. His face was red.

“Are you trying to flash me?” he asked, sounding kind of strangled.. At Pidge’s questioning look, he gestured to her skirt. “I can, um, kind of see your—”

“Oh,” Pidge said, comprehension dawning. She shrugged and dropped her skirt, which settled back around her knees. “No, not really. I mean, my underwear is pretty fancy, but I don’t think you want to see them.”

Keith’s face twisted up somewhere between a grimace and a smile, and he laughed nervously. “I can’t really see you wearing fancy panties,” he admitted, then paused, head cocked thoughtfully. “Except I kind of just did, so. Um. I guess...I...can?”

“I mean, I don’t, usually,” Pidge admitted, picking up the hem of her skirt again to play with it. “But, I was already stuffed into a dress, so…”

“Pidge,” Keith whined. 

“What? Oh,” Obediently Pidge dropped her hem and shot him an aggravated look. “Seriously, it’s not anything you haven’t seen before.”

“You did not wear black lace in outer space,” Keith admonished.

“There would have been panty lines in the uniform,” Pidge agreed solemnly. 

“Wha—” Keith’s jaw dropped. _“No,_ I mean you didn’t wear lace panties!”

“Well, of course not, I was pretending to be a guy, and I still don’t wear lace panties. Often,” Pidge shrugged. “Wait, how did you know what color my panties are?”

Keith slapped a hand over his face. “I need more to drink.”

“Me too,” Pidge sighed, feeling delightfully loose and fuzzy. “I also need these shoes off.”

Leaning down, she pulled one ankle up over her knee, frustratingly uncoordinated fingers fumbling with the miniscule buckle holding the monstrosity on.

“Do you...want some help with that?” Keith asked after a moment. 

Pidge blew out an irritated breath and glanced up to find him hovering awkwardly near her seat, weight shifting nervously. “I mean, yeah, if you can. I can’t— My fingers are just— _Ugh._ ”

Keith moved to kneel in front of her, sitting back on his heels. Pidge suppressed a shiver when his warm hand wrapped around her ankle, gently tugging her foot forward into his lap, twisting her leg so the buckle was facing him.

“You know, when you were walking up to the bar, I didn’t know it was you at first,” he said quietly, apropos of nothing, fingers digging into the tiny strap and nudging it upwards. His other hand was covering her toes, thumb smoothing over her foot where it was exposed between the silver straps criss-crossing over the arch.

“S—seriously?” Pidge asked, fascinated by the way his fingers felt, pads warm as they dragged the mesh of her stocking back and forth across her skin.

“Mm.” Keith nodded, brow furrowing as he nudged the stubborn strap up through the buckle. “You aren’t wearing your glasses tonight,” he said, “and your hair is all—” he glanced up, swirling a finger by his ear.

“My hair?” Pidge’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Oh, yeah, I’ve been meaning to get it cut.”

“Well, that, and it’s…” Keith shrugged, cheeks pinking as he went back to working on the buckle. “Different?”

“Mom.” Pidge nodded, fingers rising to toy with the gentle waves her hair had been styled into, bangs pinned back with simple silver-and-crystal bobby pins. “Don’t let the look fool you; it took about twenty minutes too long to accomplish. And there’s about a pound of product in it to keep it looking, uh, like this.”

“I honestly didn’t recognize you,” Keith admitted, his flush deepening as he fiddled with the buckle, pinching the strap to pull it through. “I was wondering how I was going to get up the nerve to go talk to this gorgeous woman, and then you stomped over and opened your mouth and…” he paused. “It was _you_ ,” he murmured.

Pidge felt her cheeks heat. “Gorgeous?” She laughed breathlessly. “I...don’t think anyone’s ever called me that.”

Keith glanced up at her. “Well, you are.” He paused. “What do they usually call you?”

“Oh.” Pidge blinked. “Genius. Sarcastic. Troll. Uh...sassy? A terrible cook—no, wait, that’s just Hunk. Brat. Um…. Matt likes to call me all kinds of things. Insubordinate; I get that one a lot. I’ve gotten ‘ _cute_ ’ or ‘ _pretty_ ’ before. Like, if I’m on a date. But normally I’m standing next to people like Romelle and Veronica and they’re like… _whoa,_ you know? Or Nadia. Ina’s got that whole tall, willowy thing going on and, wow, I’m pretty much surrounded by hot women,” Pidge mused.

Keith snorted. “Just because they’re good looking doesn’t mean you aren’t.”

Pidge shrugged. “I never said I wasn’t. I’m not bad looking, it’s just people see my reputation first, then my brain, and if they get past that then they’re usually way-laid by Romelle’s really bouncy boobs.” 

Keith laughed. “I like your brain. And your smart mouth,” he admitted, flicking the freed silver strap lightly. The hand caressing her foot moved to grip her heel and work the shoe off of her foot. “I always have,” he continued, setting the shoe aside and looking at her directly.

His smile was warm and his eyes were warm, and his hand was warm where if wrapped around her calf, and Pidge suddenly felt warm, too. There was _something_ here, she was sure of it.

“Keith?” she asked softly.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to kiss me?” she asked, licking her lips nervously, and felt a rush of satisfaction as his eyes followed the motion as he nodded dumbly.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, still staring at her lips, then blinked and glanced at her, looking unaccountably nervous. “Um, if you want me to.”

Pidge couldn’t help the way her lips quirked in amusement. “Damn right I do.”

The words were hardly out of her mouth when Keith surged toward her, pressing her back against the plush cushions of the couch as he pressed their lips together. 

Pidge responded eagerly—it had been _so long_ since she had been kissed, let alone done anything more intimate, and the first touch left her realizing that she missed the contact. Having that contact be with _Keith_ only made it better, easier. Keith, who wasn’t looking to brag about the prestige of having slept with one of Earth’s saviors. Keith, who wasn’t assessing her net worth or fame or her potential as a permanent mate. Keith, who only wanted to have a good time, the same as her, and wouldn’t judge her for it. Keith, who had been her friend for years, who she had fought with, fought for, time and again, who had been in her head and in her heart and still liked her. 

Things might be a bit awkward for a bit, the rational part of her mind said, or they might not. It didn’t matter: they were still friends, and awkward or not, one night of sex wasn’t going to change that.

She tilted her head, slotting their lips together more firmly, nibbling on his lower lip and letting him lick into her mouth. He tasted like the sharp burn of alcohol and the almost cloying sweetness of the drinks they had shared, and she rewarded his boldness by sucking on his tongue, gratified when he moaned and pressed her further back into the couch cushions. 

Pidge’s arms wound around him, relishing the solid feel of him against her, one hand coming up to cup his neck and tangle her fingers in the delicate hairs at his nape. He responded by pressing his lips against her jaw, nibbling delicately at her earlobe.

“I want you to touch me,” Pidge told him, nibbling the stubble along his jaw, feeling it scrape across her lips as he nipped her ear, pulling the tender skin into his mouth. 

“I don’t want to crush you,” Keith muttered, head arching back so she could access his neck, and slowly sucked on the bared skin down to where the collar of his shirt was tight against his throat. 

“Pidge,” Keith paused, breathing against her neck as he rested his forehead on her shoulder. “How far are we going?”

Pidge pursed her lips, still plucking at the tie. “All the way to the bed? I mean, it’s right there,” she said, reaching up and trying to get clumsy fingers to cooperate as she tugged futilely on his tie. 

Keith made a frustrated noise. _“Pidge.”_

“Unless you want to defile the couch,” Pidge said. “Or you think you can hold me up against the wall.”

Keith made a strangled noise. “Pidge,” he said firmly. “Do you want to have sex?”

“Sex is kind of tame for what I was thinking,” Pidge replied. “I mean, unless you want to stop at heavy petting or something, I was thinking I want you to fuck me, and the wall is looking like a great place for round one.”

“Pidge,” Keith whined against her neck. “You can’t just _say_ things like that.”

“I think my brain-to-mouth filter is broken,” Pidge admitted.

“So if you want me to stop, you’ll say something, right?” Keith pressed.

“Yeah, sure, totally, green light, okay,” Pidge squirmed underneath him. “Will you _please_ go back to what you were doing now?”

Keith huffed a laugh against her skin, levering himself up, ignoring her protests as he braced himself against the back of the couch and fumbling with the dress clasp at the back of her neck.

Pidge gave up on his tie—she’d had enough success to loosen it, but not remove it completely—and attacked his belt, finding the stiff leather a little easier to maneuver. Her hand accidentally brushed against the bulge straining the front of the linen once, but when Keith shuddered slightly, she did it again, deliberately. 

“Pidge,” Keith warned, but his hand had given up on her clasp and was trailing up her leg, and Pidge was distracted by his fingers on her skin, sliding slowly towards her center.

“Keith,” she whined, sliding her legs further apart and slouching slightly, trying to encourage him, practically panting in frustration as licked into his mouth. “Please.”

“I want this to be good,” Keith insisted, finger toying with the lace edge of her stocking she wore, nipping her lip as he pulled back.

Keith’s fingers dragged up her thighs as she parted them, and the scratch of her skirt hiking up, the coolness of the air hitting fevered skin, had her skating the razor edge of orgasm. His fingers were _so close_ to where she wanted them, and Pidge cried out as his nails scratched lightly over her inner thighs, knuckles brushing against her clit, sending that first electric thrill shooting through her.

“Help me take off your belt and it will be,” Pidge huffed impatiently, tugging at it for emphasis. “Please, Keith. We can—” she licked along the column of his throat as she spoke, “—we can totally do the slow and tender thing _next time_ , alright? But, right now, please, I want you inside of me,” Pidge said, fingers shaking as she tugged his zipper down and palmed him through his underwear. “Please. Again.”

“Oh God,” Keith attacked her neck with renewed vigor sucking on the sensitive skin as he pushed the lace of her panties aside and finally, _finally_ touched her. “You’re _soaking_.”

“I want you,” Pidge would be embarrassed about how needy she sounded, later. “I want you. _Now_.”

“Pidge,” she felt him lick her skin, lick his lips. “ _Katie._ I’m not going to last long. I’m...oh God, I’m—”

“Oh, trust me,” Pidge laughed against his ear, tugging on his ponytail as she scraped her fingers down his neck and into his loosened collar. She gasped as his fingers brushed against her with purpose, fingertip probing her entrance before retreating. “I’m not going to last, either. It’s...been a while. I want this, _so much._ ”

“Okay,” Keith said breathlessly. She cried out as he slid a finger into her, all the way up to the knuckle. 

“Did you—?” Keith asked hesitantly, pulling back. 

“Again,” she told him fiercely, pressing her hips towards him, clenching around the finger that slid inside of her in response as she pulled the belt out of it’s loop and let his slacks fall open. She gripped him through his underwear and thumbed the head, feeling the moisture that dampened the fabric. “Another, more Keith, please...”

“Ugh,” was Keith’s response as he obliged, stretching her sweetly with a second finger as his thumb brushed over her clit. Pidge sighed happily, tilting her head back as she fumbled with the flap of his underwear, sliding her fingers inside to trace over hot skin. Keith shuddered, but continued to press his fingers into her, scissoring them, flexing them, pressing against her inner walls as he dragged them out, thumb stroking over her clit with purpose as he watched her squirm beneath him.

“You have definitely grown into your hands,” Pidge told him, gripping his shaft in her hand, occasionally squeezing it or rubbing a thumb over the underside or the spongy head, dragging moisture down it as she moved her hand. She wasn’t really _doing_ anything with it, too distracted by Keith’s fingers driving into her, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“I’ve what?” Keith asked, confused, then shook his head. “Can you take another finger?”

“I could take a _dick_ ,” Pidge said intelligently, working him out of the slit and into the open air. She pumped the shaft, admiring the pearly drops beading at the tip and the shine along his skin from where precome had already smeared. “I’m going to put my mouth on you.”

“ _Jesus_ , Pidge,” Keith groaned, “you can’t say things like that.”

“You keep saying that,” Pidge muttered, leaning forward, dislodging his fingers as he was nudged back. “You know the best way to shut me up?”

“Pidge,” Keith sounded torn, “I want to make sure—” 

Pidge sucked the head of his cock into her mouth, and Keith exhaled sharply. 

Pidge wasn’t particularly experienced at oral sex, but she liked to think she was a quick study, so once she had him comfortably in her mouth, she wrapped her hand around the shaft, giving it a few experimental pumps as she sucked on the head. She varied the pressure, ran her thumb along the underside, and curled her tongue around the tip, trying to figure out what worked best.

Short answer? Anything, she decided as he tensed, bracing on the back of the couch and leaning over her, free hand tangled in her hair. Her other hand went to his hip, fingertips curling around the curve of his ass and digging into the muscles there as he twitched, hips making tiny, abortive thrusts as he panted above her. 

“Apparently it shuts you up, too,” she muttered, pulling off of him and tipping her head back to gaze up at his ragged expression. He was unfairly pretty, even now, she mused. His hair was coming loose from it’s neat tail, tendrils falling down around his face, and his lips were parted just a bit as he breathed heavily. 

“Pidge—” 

Pidge stuffed his cock back into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head as she gripped the shaft.

“Pidge,” Keith choked out, giving her hair a warning tug, “if you keep going, I’m going to come.”

Pidge squeezed the base of his dick tightly. “Not yet.”

“I— I didn’t bring any protection,” Keith gritted out. 

“I’m on the implant,” Pidge replied. “And I’m clean. You?”

“Clean,” Keith said. “No partners in the last—”

“So no problems, then,” Pidge reached up, pulling him down and fusing their mouths together as she leaned back. 

“I thought you wanted the wall?” Keith let himself be pulled down, fingers already sliding back up her thigh.

“Are you sober enough to manage it?” Pidge asked skeptically. “I mean, you have to hold me up.”

His fingers stopped. “Is that a challenge?”

Pidge smirked and, giving his dick on last stroke, let go. “I mean, maybe. But if you drop me, you know I’m _never_ going to let it go.”

Keith snorted, straightening, using his weight to help pull her upright. She had just enough time to put her hands on his shoulders before he reached around, fingers sliding up under her skirt and shoving it out of the way as he hoisted her up. She locked her ankles around his back, pressing her center against him and panting into his neck as his gait rubbed at her rhythmically. 

Her back hit the wall with a careful _thud_ , and his lips were back on hers, fingers digging into her hips as his tongue invaded her mouth. Pidge leaned into him, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other tangling into his loosened ponytail, nails scratching at his scalp.`

“Pidge,” he said, breaking away, “I am gonna need some help here.”

Humming, Pidge braced herself against the wall, untangling her fingers from his hair to reach between them. She pushed her panties aside before taking him in hand, drawing him to her and notching him against her opening. Keith’s hips bucked automatically, pressing her back and him slightly in, and Pidge smiled.

“Pidge,” Keith sounded strangled, “are you sure? We… We can’t go back after this.”

 _‘Back from what?’_ Pidge’s alcohol-addled mind finally turned up the question, piecing things together in a way she was currently struggling to grasp. She didn’t even realize she’d spoken aloud until Keith answered her. 

“It’s, just,” he licked his lips, his gaze earnest and unusure and _nervous._ “Once we do this...things will change.”

Pidge snorted before she could censor herself. “They already have,” she told him. “Keith, I’ve had your dick in my mouth: we’re past the awkward stage. Or maybe we haven’t gotten there?” She shrugged. “It’s just sex, and even if it’s weird later, you’re still one of my best friends. We’re still teammates. We’ll work through it, or around it, or whatever.”

The relief was so obvious on Keith’s face that Pidge felt bad for missing it before. Keith had grown up largely alone, and still was reserved. Pidge reached out, cupping his cheek gently. 

“Change isn’t bad,” she told him. “We’ve already been through so much together. This? Isn’t going to break us.” She took a deep breath. “But… no goes both ways. If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop.”

It might kill her, she thought privately, as she struggled not to squirm where he was pressed up against her, just shy of properly breaching her and practically _teasing_ her with a hint of the fullness she craved. But she would stop. Even if she would need a cold shower and possibly a few unsatisfying minutes alone with her hand.

Keith’s relief morphed into something almost unbearably tender as he leaned forward, pressing his lips sweetly against hers. “Thank you.”

Pidge squirmed, uncomfortable with the emotions suddenly flooding her. “If you want to thank me, either fuck me stupid or put me down,” she teased, grabbing his tie and pulling him towards her.

Keith huffed out a laugh, leaning forward and capturing her mouth once more as he rocked firmly into her. 

“Yeah, just like that,” Pidge encouraged, nipping his lips, his chin, reveling in the feel of him thrusting against her as he worked his way in. His shoulders pinned her to the wall, fingers digging into her thighs and holding her as he worked his way in, not stopping until her aching clit was brushing against the fabric of his pants. 

_‘This really wasn’t going to take long,’_ Pidge mused, writhing against him, worrying whatever bit of skin she could reach as he pounded into her. In this position he didn’t get much range, but the depth and angle were exquisite agony, his front rubbing against her clit with every thrust as he panted and groaned against her shoulder.

Not that he was small, but this position made him feel impossibly large and hard, leaving Pidge gripping his shoulders, fingers tangled in whatever hair she could grab and wishing he was naked so she could get her mouth on the rest of him.

“Next time we’re gonna be naked,” she muttered, sinking her teeth into the fabric of his shirt and feeling vaguely unsatisfied. “We’re going to be naked and I’m going to bite your neck and scratch your back and get _handfuls_ of your ass, I swear. I want this dress off and your mouth on _every_ — Yes. Oh God, don’t stop,” she begged, as Keith jolted her up with a particularly vicious thrust.

The front of his underwear was sticky, wet enough now that the fabric rubbed instead of rasped in a series of quick, deep movements that had lights sparking behind her eyes as the warmth in her gut coiled tighter. He was so deep it almost hurt, and Pidge canted her hips, digging her heels into his legs as she tried to pull him closer still. 

“You’re so tight,” Keith nearly whimpered it into her skin, panting as his fingers clutched her thighs, pulling her closer, spreading her open for him. “Ah, Pidge, I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” she begged. “A little more. I just— I need—”

He slammed against her, hardening even further if possible, and Pidge cried out, spine arching, legs tightening convulsively as the heat and tension released, seizing her muscles as she pulsed around him, writhing against him as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. Her hips tried to move in a futile effort to keep the pressure going, to prolong the pleasure, but aside from the few, deep and prolonged thrusts on Keith’s part, she was unable to move, well and truly pinned between Keith and the wall as he panted humid breaths onto the tender skin of her shoulder.

He was shaking, she realized after a moment. She had been thinking that was her (and, well, it kind of was, because aftershocks) but Keith’s fingers were spasming, muscles twitching slightly even under his shirt as he continued to hold her to the wall, breathing raggedly against her skin. Slowly, Pidge forced herself to loosen her legs from around her waist, vaguely wondering if her lone heel would leave a bruise on the back of his thigh (and if he would let her kiss it better later if it had). She unwound her fingers from his wrecked ponytail, hoping she hadn’t hurt him, and trying to make up for it by rubbing the back of his neck soothingly. 

“Did you—?” she didn’t really need to ask, she could feel him already softening inside of her, but it seemed only right to check.

“Uh. Yeah,” Keith nodded dumbly, hair rubbing against her neck as he pressed soft kisses to the skin under her hear. “Um. You?”

“Yeah,” Pidge sighed, draping her arms over his shoulders and wiggling against him contentedly. Keith twitched minutely, but the stilled again. “That was great. Awesome. Orgasms for everyone. Go team.”

Keith huffed out a laugh, his lips twitching against her neck. “Yay team,” he agreed.

Pidge pause, considered, and licked her lips. “Ready for round two?”

Now Keith _did_ laugh, shaking against her and nipping her skin playfully. “Pidge, _no_.”

“Pidge, _yes,_ ” Pidge countered cheerfully, but then added, “but I suppose I’ll let you take me to your bed. We can get naked and do the snuggling and cuddling and stuff first.”

“Gee, thanks,” Keith said, but he was already shifting, adjusting his grip on her legs as he turned.

“I mean, you don’t have to carry me, but okay,” Pidge hummed, wiggling her toes as she tucked her chin over his shoulder. 

Her lost shoe was lying forgotten by the sofa. Something else glimmered on the rug, and Pidge kind of thought it might be a bobby pin, but didn’t have time to tell before Keith opened the door to the darkened bedroom, striding in to deposit her on the bed.

Pidge flopped back into the fluffy duvet, letting her arms flop over her head and not caring if her skirt was riding up, or that her lacy underwear was still unceremoniously shoved to the side — it was nothing Keith hadn’t already seen, and besides, he was hanging out of his underwear, so.

Pidge snorted as she took him in, only vaguely visible in the light from the main area. “You’re a mess,” she informed him. His hair looked much like Matt’s had earlier, and his pants were still undone, his shirt was half pulled out and his tie was so crooked it was obscene. “You look like you got fucked against a wall.”

“Funny, that,” Keith said wryly, absently tucking himself back into his underwear and working his tie over his head. “You look pretty debauched yourself.”

“It was great,” Pidge said happily, stretching luxuriously, watching Keith unbutton his vest and savoring the vague ache between her legs. The raw warmth on her neck and shoulders told her there was stubble burn at the very least, but she was betting on some pretty good hickeys. “You’re too sober if you can use words like ‘ _debauched_ ’ without stuttering. Or at all.”

Keith dropped his vest on the floor and began working on his shirt. Pidge was momentarily distracted, watching his nimble fingers slide the buttons through the holes, the fabric parting to reveal smooth planes of unmarked flesh as she remembered what those fingers had been doing not twenty minutes ago. She licked her lips.

“What?” Keith asked as he caught her gaze. “I thought you said we could do the naked and cuddling stuff?”

“We can. We totally can,” Pidge agreed easily. “But...you’re way more sober then me. You can make buttons undo and stuff.”

Okay, so she was playing it up. A bit. By the way Keith arched his brow, he probably knew it too, but he played along. “I’m bigger than you. I have a higher tolerance. And,” he added pointedly, “I probably didn’t drink as much.”

“Yeah, alright,” Pidge waved him away and flexed her fingers. “But you’re more coordinated than me.”

“I had to be to hold you like that and _not_ drop you.”

“And I appreciate that,” Pidge said. “But.”

“But what?” Keith asked, sounding amused.

Pidge lifted her leg, watching her skirt slide up before setting her heel on his leg, resting her toes carefully against his crotch. Idly, she watched her shoe glitter in the dim light before raising her eyes to meet his, which were already darkening as he watched her intently.

“I’m going to need you to help me take off my shoe.”


	2. Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secret Ingredient: courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: this story contains dub-con, because of (accidental) drug ingestion. The team receives food as a gift from some grateful locals, who tell them that the purpose of it is to give their warriors courage before battle. In humans (and some other species) it acts a an aphrodisiac, and Pidge shows up to Keith's room and basically jumps him. Later, after they realize what happened, both feel guilty about the fact. This is quickly resolved because I have a communication kink, and Keith and Pidge talk to each other and realize that neither one feels taken advantage of, and both were only worried that they had taken advantage of the other. _If this is going to push any unhappy buttons, please take care of yourself and give this one a miss._
> 
> As always, the lovely LuceCiel has done some art for this fic, and you can find it here: [](https://twitter.com/luceciel_art/status/1237224065305198592?s=21)
> 
> https://twitter.com/LuceCiel_Art/status/1237224065305198592

“In honor of your bravery, Paladins of Voltron, we present you and your allies with these.” The leader of the reptilian-like race on the planet they’d just liberated handed Keith a thin, rectangular box with a hinged lid and fancy golden glyphs etched into its surface. 

“Made from the fruit of the K’iche tree, they are filled with hirsuta,” the leader’s blunt tail twitched behind him, which Keith had learned indicated agitation or excitement. “They are delicacies in our culture,” he continued, “given to our warriors before important battles to imbue them with courage and strength, to make them fearless before their foes and give them the fortitude to achieve victory.”

Keith already knew that  _ “thanks, but we were just doing our jobs,”  _ wasn’t the appropriate response (incident #13 had finally driven that lesson home—who knew diplomats were so  _ touchy? _ ). Neither was turning around and hoping Allura (the only real diplomat in the group) would save him—touchy diplomat leaders wanted to talk to the leader, not anyone else.

“Thank you,” he said, settling for what he hoped was a genuine-looking smile. He clutched the box awkwardly, not sure what to do next. Should he open the box and admire whatever was inside, or hold onto it, or pass it back to his teammates? Was he expected to bow, or shake hands or… He didn’t know. He really didn’t. “We appreciate your kind gesture.”

“It’s not just a kind gesture,” the leader shook his head. “Your fleet is leaving a contingent of their warriors behind to help bolster our own forces, after all. You will need bravery, to continue the fight without their aid. This is why we have sent a crate of our Lacochonne with you.”

“Oh,” Keith said. “Well...still, thank you.”

“You are so awkward,” Lance muttered to him as they finally made their way back to the shuttle that would take them back to the  _ Atlas _ , their crate of Lacochonne hovering along next to them _. _ “Why did Shiro put you in charge of closing ceremonies, again?”

“As the leader of the Paladins, Keith is expected to be able to handle diplomatic matters in Shiro’s stead,” Allura said. “He can’t get better if he doesn’t practice.”

“Can’t we just pretend you’re the leader?” Keith asked rhetorically, gesturing with the hand still holding the gift box before slapping his free hand over the scanner on the shuttle to lower the gangplank. “I mean, I don’t want this.”

“If it helps, I didn’t vote for you to be leader,” Lance said, ignoring Allura as she swatted at him irritably.

“Lance!” she hissed, before turning to Keith consolingly. “Don’t listen to him; you’re doing great.” Everyone turned to stare at her. “Erm, yes, well,” she cleared her throat, and shrugged apologetically. “You’re getting better.”

“You  _ are  _ getting better,” Hunk affirmed, patting Keith on the shoulder as he passed.

Keith waited for the rest of the team to board the shuttle before taking one last perimeter scan and following. 

“Closing the hatch!” Lance called from the cockpit, already in the pilot’s seat while Hunk ran the preflight checks next to him. “Is the shuttle secure?”

“Secure!” Keith called, eyes not leaving the hatch until it had fully closed.

“Cargo secure?”

“Two dobashes!” Pidge called from the storage area, where she and Allura were strapping down the crate they’d been gifted.

“Affirmative,” Lance replied, and Keith took the opportunity to sit in the passenger area, setting the gift box next to him and strapping himself in, stowing his helmet between his feet. Allura and Pidge joined him after a moment, both still carrying their helmets. Allura chose the bench across from him, but Pidge flung herself down next to him with a groan.

“I’m so glad that’s over,” she said, dumping her helmet in his hands as she reached for the harness straps attached to the hold’s walls. “I just want to go back and eat some real food.”

“Their food wasn’t artificial,” Allura interjected, frowning a little. “It was completely natural, outside of some synthetic ingredients to aid in color and preservation.”

“Not—” Pidge waved the other woman off “—that’s not what I meant. I mean...I want some familiar food. But, what’s in the box?”

“Oh.” Keith glanced down at the box. “I haven't opened it yet. Should I put it back in cargo?”

“No time.” Pidge shook her head as Lance called back, checking cargo and passengers were secure. “You can stow it back there after we leave orbit.”

“Yeah, point,” Keith said, picking the box back up as Lance called out the flight sequence. The engines rumbled to life beneath them, causing the ship to vibrate slightly as he flicked the latch and thumbed it open. Inside, nestled in six individual compartments, were rounded balls, dark brown and dusted with something that gleamed faintly in the artificial light.

“It looks like...chocolate?” Keith asked dubiously, tilting the box to show Pidge, even though she was already leaning against his shoulder, pressed against his arm as much as her own harness would allow.

“Or poop,” she said, but was already leaning closer to squint at it. “Shiny poop.”

“Perfectly round, shiny poop?” Keith asked dubiously. The shuttle jerked as they hit the upper atmosphere, and Pidge swayed against him a bit, fingers digging into the armor on his thigh as she tried to steady herself.

“Don’t dis my metaphors,” Pidge grumbled, but her shoulders jerked in an approximation of a shrug, the motion forestalled by the harness she was still straining against as she leaned down and sniffed at them. “And they smell like peanut butter cups!”

“Hm.” Keith lifted the box towards his face, inhaling cautiously, making a surprised noise when something very like the familiar smells of cocoa and peanuts hit his nose. “Yeah, it kind of does.”

“What kind of does?” Hunk asked, appearing from the cockpit, with Lance close behind him.

“We’ll be there in about twenty dobashes… Oh, is that the stuff the Ducis gave us?” Lance asked, elbowing by his friend to lean over and examine the box. “The stuff to...make us braver, or whatever?”

“Cibus Fortem,” Allura corrected, unbuckling as she leaned across the way. “They’re a controlled item on Terranemo, but then again, by giving them to us to disseminate amongst our elite, Ducis is probably hoping to set up a trade route.”

“And this is why I want to tell everyone Allura is in charge,” Keith said irritably, gesturing with the box. “She can People.”

“Oh, stop kicking yourself already,” Pidge scoffed. “The only reason you’re so bad is because you  _ tell _ yourself you’re bad.”

Keith scowled at the girl next to him, who gazed back unrepentantly. “I do not.”

“You kind of do,” Lance said, sniffing the box. “Hey, these do smell like peanut butter cups!”

“See? I’m right,” Pidge’s eyebrow lifted challengingly, even as her hand reached out to slap Lance’s as it tried to sneak into the box. “And don’t eat those, you idiot!”’

“What? Why not?” Lance whined, shaking his hand as Allura and Hunk rolled their eyes behind him. “I want the space Reese’s!”

“You know they need to be analyzed first,” Pidge scolded, breaking her staring contest with Keith to scowl at Lance. “Remember what happened on Kich’al?”

Lance grimaced: it had been one of the first they’d helped liberate, and the locals had held a feast in their honor. Only the food, while fine for the natives, had made all of the paladins extremely ill. Since then, they’d learned to carry portable scanners and make sure their food was safe to eat.

“Besides,” Hunk added, “didn’t the...uh, leader guy say these were given to the warriors to give them courage? So, like, who knows what it can do.”

“Afraid I’ll eat the magic peanut butter cup and turn into a raging berserker?” Lance grainned, straightening and flexing his arms dramatically. 

Keith rolled his eyes and shut the box, disengaging his harness and rising to stow the gift in the cargo hold with the rest of the pallet. 

“That’s not actually a bad theory,” Pidge remarked, leaning back as Keith moved past her. “I mean, the Vikking ‘ _ Berserkers _ ’ were basically fed powerful drugs to put them in that state, so…”

“Think this could be something similar?” Hunk asked thoughtfully.

“This sounds very like the Galra’s ‘ _ Yarost’voin _ ,’” Allura commented as Keith slid the box into one of the secured cubbies and made his way back to the bay where everyone was. “They were also known for rages that decimated everyone around them.”

“It seems to be a common cultural phenomenon,” Pidge nodded, shifting to the side automatically as Keith reappeared, sliding back into place once he’d regained his seat. “Most cultures have some kind of elite or shock troops… and ways of making them even better.”

Keith leaned back, content to listen as Allura, Hunk and Pidge commented on different cultures and the ways they gave their elite troops an edge, comparing various training regimes or other methods and discussing what had worked and what hadn’t with the occasional remark from Lance. 

Pidge was an animated conversationalist, shifting as she spoke, leaning forward when she was interested, leaning back when she was sceptical. She seemed content to remain pressed against him, and Keith was content to let her, appreciating the solid presence and easy camaraderie between them. He watched her gloved hands twitch as she gestured, small-looking even in her armor, and wondered what might happen if he reached out and laced his fingers with her own. 

Returning to the Atlas didn’t take long, and before he knew it, the shuttle was docked in with the rest of the fleet and they were all disembarking, Pidge and Hunk steering the pallet off to the labs to have their gifts tested.

“You should just do it,” Lance commented conversationally as Keith lagged behind, fiddling with his wrist guard. Allura had pressed a kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek and gone to look for Coran, who was still working with the recently found Alteans.

“Do what?” Keith asked, distracted. 

“Ask her out,” Lance said.

“What?” Keith’s head snapped up and he blinked at his team mate owlishly. “W-who?”

Lance shot him a look that clearly said  _ ‘don’t be dumb’  _ and continued walking. “Or just, you know, kiss her or something.”

_ “What?” _ Keith felt heat crawling into his cheeks, and he rushed to catch up to Lance because he knew from experience that distance wouldn’t prevent Lance from talking—he’d just speak  _ louder. _ “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he hissed as he caught up to the other man.

“Yeah, sure you don’t,” Lance smirked at him condescendingly. 

“I  _ don’t, _ ” Keith insisted, gritting his teeth.

“Plus,” Lance added, leaning in faux-conspiratorially, “we can kind of see inside your head.”

“You can  _ not,” _ Keith snapped reflexively. The bond they shared as Paladins didn’t work like that! Sure, there was a bit of psychic bleed-over when they were all engaged, but aside from occasional flashes, but when they were Voltron they were usually thinking about the actual battle and— 

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Keith wanted to slap a hand over his face. 

“There you go,” Lance drawled. 

As paladins, they were connected intimately with their lions; a psychic bond, a vague tug, that Keith had felt even when he was acting as a Blade of Marmora. When they formed Voltron, the bond allowed them to act in concert, they could sense each other’s emotions and intents without actual  _ words _ being necessary. 

It was how he knew when Hunk was worried, or Lance was distracted, or Allura was distressed. He might not know exactly  _ what _ Hunk was worried about, or what had caught Lance’s attention—that still had to be verbalized—but they’d all been subjected to Lance’s varying levels of distraction to know when he was distracted-and-upset versus distracted-and-pining.

There had been way,  _ way _ too much distracted-and-pining, in Keith’s opinion. 

“You think I don’t know what  _ longing _ feels like, Keith?” Lance asked, wry and surprisingly serious.

Keith winced. “Shit. Who all knows? Does...does she know?”

“I… surprisingly, I don’t think so,” Lance mused. “Allura knows, because she’s smart as hell, and Hunk knows, because I told him.”

“Thanks,” Keith said dryly.

“But I don’t think Pidge knows,” Lance shrugged. “I mean, let’s face it… subtlety isn’t her strong point. If she knew, by now she’d either have jumped you or punched you.”

Keith grimaced, unsure about how he felt about that statement.

“And even if I didn’t have your brain fretting at my brain about vaguely lust-tinged Pidge-related worries—which I’m pretty sick of, really—I can still  _ see _ you watching her all the time.”

“I do not,” Keith said, aghast. If  _ Lance _ had noticed something, then Pidge had definitely noticed his stupid, hopeless,  _ unprofessional _ crush.

“Freaking heart eyes, man,” Lance confirmed, nodding solemnly. “But, seriously, just… ask her out.  _ Please _ , put us all out of your misery.”

Keith considered that statement. Then he considered the ramifications of ruining a great friendship, and considered if Pidge was tall enough to break his nose or would simply use her bayard to electrocute him.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” he said finally.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Oh sure,  _ now _ you learn to act like a diplomat!”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Two days later Keith was still taking it under advisement when Pidge strolled onto the bridge, carrying the disputed giftbox and wearing a grin, a few other boxes tucked under her arm.

“Safe!” she cried, holding the box aloft triumphantly. “Well, mostly,” she added, when Sam Holt shot his daughter a look.

“Okay…” Curtis, the communications officer, turned in his chair to blink at the green paladin curiously. 

Keith liked Curtis. Curtis was smart, competent, and wasn’t at all intimidated by his new alien coworkers or the paladins themselves. He toed the line with a kind of smart-assed respect that Keith was low-key jealous of: nearly everyone liked him, and it let him get away with being borderline rude in his casualness with authority.

“They’re safe for  _ humans, _ ” Sam Holt spoke up.

“True.” Pidge shrugged, handing the boxes under her arm to Shiro. “There’s nothing in these that are poisonous for, or cause aggression in human beings. Or Olkari, Puigians, Alteans, or most other common mammalian species.”

_ “However,” _ Sam prompted.

_ “However,” _ Pidge shot her dad a ‘ _ can-you-let-me-finish? _ ’ look. “They do have a chemical that can cause aggression in Lacerta, Galra, Unilu, and several other races that are in the alliance.  _ And, _ ” she added before Sam could interrupt again “They’re downright poisonous to some races we come in contact with, like the Balmarans. For people who are mixed-heritage, it’s unknown what the effects could be.” She handed Shiro a small disc. “Here’s the full report.”

“Hm.” Shiro made a considering noise, then turned to his advisors. “Opinions?”

“They were gifts.” Coran shrugged. “May as well try them. Why, they appear similar to something I once encountered on Y’chaca. My great-great-uncle Morrist was a mercenary in their army—he got conscripted after losing that bet, you know—and he was—”

“—Uh.” Curtis raised his hand, effectively cutting off Coran’s tale. “Do we really just want to hand them out to some people and not others?”

“We have an entire  _ pallet _ of them,” Iverson pointed out.”I’d say lets divvy it out to various commanders, and let them hand them out.”

“I think that people who had strategic importance or were recognized as heroes in the battle for Lacerta should receive them,” Sam added.

“That makes sense—yes, Pidge, you’ll get a box,” Shiro added, shooting Pidge a small smile as she hugged her box defensively. “We can divide them up between us and the Coalition, and pass a few boxes to team leads to let their teams sample from after they’ve checked to make sure their people are safe to eat them. How many boxes do we have?”

“Three hundred and fifty-five,” Pidge replied promptly. “But that includes the box we took the sample from.”

“Convenient.” Shiro turned to Keith and tossed him a box. “Grab one for each paladin and hand them out, would you? I’ll keep a box here for us to try. Mitch, can you and Curt figure out who were our notables in the last battle, and how best to divide the boxes?”

Bemused, Keith found himself in the hall holding a box of maybe-magic-candy.

“You, uh… want to come get some boxes with me?” he asked Pidge, trying not to sound awkward and pathetic as Pidge popped the lid on her own box. She paused, fingers already on a treat, and glanced at him. “I mean, if you’re not busy?”

“Sure,” she said, shutting the box with a snap and tucking it under her arm. “They're still down in the hanger, so we can just grab a few off the top.”

“You can have one if you want,” Keith said as they headed into the lift. “You didn’t have to put it away.”

“No big deal.” Pidge shrugged and pressed the button for the crew cabin levels. “I think I’m going to save it for dessert, anyway. Plus, I’m kind of worried that they won’t taste like peanut butter cups at all, and if they don’t, then I want to be close to an actual jar of peanut butter just in case.”

Keith studied his box in silence for a moment, then, acting on impulse, handed it to Pidge. “Here.”

“What?” Pidge’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“You, uh. You can have mine.” Keith struggled to maintain eye contact as he felt his face heat. If he looked away, Pidge would assume he didn’t really mean it and refuse the box.

“Are… you sure?” Pidge held the box tentatively. “Don’t you want them?”

Keith forced himself to shrug, feigning a nonchalance he certainly didn’t feel. “I’m not sure I can have them.”

Confusion clouded Pidge’s eyes for a second before her expression cleared, mouth dropping open with a little “Oh. I...forgot,” she admitted sheepishly.

Keith shrugged again as the lift opened and they exited onto the floor where their quarters were. “No big deal.”

“Not like I haven’t met your very Galra mother or anything,” Pidge said wryly.

Keith offered her a grin. “So has Shiro, and he handed me the box.”

“True,” Pidge hummed. “Well...I mean, the lab didn’t test how it would affect people with mixed heritages. It might not affect you at all.”

“Or I might go on a murderous rampage,” Keith countered.

“Not too likely,” Pidge snorted, slapping her palm against the door to her quarters and stepping in when the door slid obediently aside. “The ingredients can trigger aggression, sure, but not, like,  _ berserker _ aggression. You’d probably just be more violent than usual and have a harder time controlling your temper.”

“Sounds like fun,” Keith said dryly, glancing around the cluttered disaster Pidge called her quarters. “How did you even get this much stuff?”

“I collect,” Pidge sniffed, setting the boxes on top of a… casing for something, though Keith couldn’t hazard a guess at which of the parts strewn across the desk belonged inside of it. 

“Do you collect screws in your bed?” Keith asked, blinking at the handful of different sized screws and a small collection of screwdrivers piled on her pillow.

_ “What?” _

Keith glanced at Pidge, surprised at the strangled-sounding tone of voice. “Screws. Do you collect them in your bed?” he asked, pointing at the pillow, privately wondering if Pidge was alright—she was turning a rather alarming shade of red. “You okay?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one asking me if I—Oh. No, no screws in my bed.” Pidge rolled her eyes and scooped up the loose hardware, depositing it into a small tower of cubbies on her desk, and lining the screwdrivers up on the magnetic strip glued above it. “Unfortunately,” she mumbled under her breath.

Keith blinked. “What—” 

“Ready to go?” Pidge asked, cutting Keith off as she moved towards the door.

“I… guess,” Keith said hesitantly, following her out into the hall, waiting while she locked the door and trailing behind her back to the lifts.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

By the time Keith was back in his room after dinner, he’d forgotten the odd conversation he’d had with Pidge earlier. His room was unnaturally empty without Kosmo in it, but the wolf had gone with his mother on a mission and wasn’t due back for another few days, so Keith was left on his own.

He’d just changed out of his uniform and into a pair of lounge pants when someone knocked on his door.

“Pidge?” he asked, surprised, when he opened it and found her standing on the other side. She was dressed casually, and her glasses were missing, making her eyes look huge and dark in the ship's lights. “Is everything alright?”

“Mmhm,” Pidge hummed, stepping into the room. “Yeah, everything is fine.”

“Oh. Uh, okay. So...what brings you here?” Keith asked uncertainly. He’d only just seen her at dinner a little over a half-hour previous. While she did occasionally come by to watch the entertainment center with him, he hadn’t expected her tonight: she had, in fact, given every indication that she was going to go back to her room and cram some more of the now officially dubbed space-Resse’s into her face.

“This,” Pidge said, reaching up and pulling him down to press her lips to his. 

Keith stiffened, mouth falling slack in shock. Pidge took that as a clear invitation, tilting her head to the side to slant their lips together, biting his lower lip. Keith couldn’t help the faint noise he made at the sensation as Pidge pulled his lip between her teeth, sucking to soothe the sting as her fingers wound into his hair.

His hands going to her waist was reactionary—he hadn’t consciously made the decision, but his hands were there, helping him balance as she pulled him down, fingers twitching against the soft material of the thin shirt she was wearing.

“Pidge, what—?” His question was cut off when she made a quiet noise of protest as he pulled back, following him up onto her tip-toes and pressing her lips back against his as she leaned against him.

“I’ve wanted this,” she said breathlessly, pressing soft kisses along his jaw when he lifted his head, making a frustrated noise as she tried to cran up to reach him.

“I… Me too,” Keith’s head was spinning a little, shocked at the pace and the feel of Pidge pressed against him, fingers curled around his biceps as she balanced on her toes. “Did… Did you talk to Lance or something?”

“Or something,” Pidge said, lips pursing as she looked up at him through her lashes. She rocked back onto her heels and huffed impatiently. “Can we move this to the bed? You’re too tall.”

“I…? The…?” That made sense, Keith decided. Bending over like that was awkward, and trying to stretch up couldn’t be comfortable, either.

The sheets were a little rumpled, but Pidge didn’t seem to mind, pushing him back against the pillow and crawling up the bed to pick up where she’d left off. Keith was a little surprised at her forwardness, but he supposed he shouldn’t be: Pidge had always been the type to go after what she wanted. 

She draped herself over him, one leg slotting between his as she straddled his thigh and leaned down, hand planted on the bed as she balanced above him, the other gripping his shoulder. Her lips were warm and soft, her tongue insistent as she licked into his mouth. 

Keith closed his eyes and let her in, fingers curling over her hip and tangling into her hair, letting himself get lost in the warmth of her against him. He shuddered slightly, trying to control his reaction to the warmth of her center wrapped around his thigh, to her firm breasts pressed against his chest, and the way she was moving slightly, shifting, almost riding his thigh as she mapped out his mouth.

There was a faint taste of something like peanut butter on her breath, and her tongue was warm as it slid against his, sending heat curling through him.

“Pidge,” he said hesitantly, trying to shift away subtly as he felt himself growing hard in his pants. She wasn’t directly on top of him, but still… She was going to  _ notice _ if he couldn’t get himself under control. “I…” he trailed off, not sure what he wanted to say.

“Mm?” Pidge made a vaguely-questioning noise as she bit his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there.

“I, uh, I don’t…” That was as far as he got, his fingers convulsively flexing in her hair as he tilted his head to give her access, breath shuddering from her attention. Her fingernails scratched his scalp and he nearly whimpered. “Um…”

“You should touch me,” Pidge said, using her nose to nudge the collar of his tee shirt aside as she traced the line of muscle with her teeth.

“I… I should?” Keith did not squeak. He  _ did not  _ squeak _. _

“I  _ want _ you to touch me.” Pidge rubbed against him, a slow, deliberate slide that left  _ no doubt _ about exactly what she meant. Keith drew in a sharp breath at the fissure of heat the friction caused, and tried to distract himself. 

“Y-You really want me to, uh...” Keith blinked, wondering when her hand had migrated under his shirt, and decided he didn’t mind as she scratched delicately along his ribs. “Already? Isn’t this… kind of quick?”

“I’ve already waited way too long,” Pidge said bluntly, sucking a mark onto his collarbone that had him bucking up a bit. “I’ve been hoping you would… I don’t know,  _ say something _ , you know? Give me a sign. For  _ months _ now.”

“Really?” Keith asked breathlessly. 

“Sometimes I kind of thought… but I wasn’t sure, so I never did,” Pidge admitted, nosing up under his chin, pressing kisses to the tender skin there. “But tonight I just decided ‘ _ fuck it _ ’ and… I want this.”

“I…” Keith didn’t have words for the elation he was feeling, nothing seemed big enough, bright enough, to express his relief and gratitude that Pidge felt the same way. He cupped her face between his hands, pulling her in to kiss her, trying to pour everything he was feeling into the gesture. “Yes. Whatever you want.”

“I told you,” Pidge leaned up, abruptly reaching down and yanking her shirt over her head, “I want  _ everything.” _

Keith’s jaw dropped.

Pidge’s bra was  _ red. _ Deep red, lined in delicate lace traced the edges of the fabric, drawing his attention to the gentle swell of her breasts, and the soft paleness of her skin. His hand was already out, caught up in the desire to know if she was as soft as she looked, before his mind caught up and he hastily pulled his hand back.

Pidge glanced at his hand, amused. “You’re  _ supposed _ to touch,” she said loftily. “That’s why I wore it.” She illustrated her point by grabbing his hand and drawing it to her breast. “I  _ want _ you to touch,” she added lowly. 

He did as she asked, and Pidge shifted, arching her back as he cupped her breast, thumbing the peak through the fabric, squeezing as she shoved his shirt up to drag her nails down his chest.

“I love your abs,” she muttered, half to herself, trailing her fingertips down the centerline in his stomach. “You have no idea how often I’ve watched sweat trail down,  _ right here, _ and wanted to just… follow it with my tongue.”

If he’d been fighting off an erection before, unwilling to alarm his...partner? Team mate?  _ Girlfriend? _ then between Pidge’s lingerie and her unselfconscious mouth, he’d completely lost the battle.

He was fully hard as Pidge ground herself against this thigh and she lowered herself to kiss him again. She moaned into his mouth, shoving his shirt up restlessly and Keith gasped at the feeling of her skin on his. She was soft and warm, a slight weight radiating heat as she pushed and pulled at his shirt. 

He tore his mouth away from hers, sitting up enough to pull the shirt off before she fell on him again, panting into his mouth as she rode his thigh. “Pidge,” he said breathlessly, gripping her hips warningly, already distracted by the smooth flesh in front of him. “It’s… It’s been a while…” he mumbled, teeth tracing along the line of her shoulder.

“Alright,” Pidge said. She slid against him again, deftly lining up his clothed erection in the cleft of her thighs, and Keith’s eyes nearly crossed in bliss. 

Clearly she didn’t understand what he was trying to say, so Keith gritted his teeth and tried again. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come. Probably sooner than you want.”

Pidge paused, shifting impatiently. “Then  _ do  _ something _ , _ ” she demanded.

Keith focused his attention on her chest, nuzzling and reveling in the sounds she made as he did, letting her guide him where she wanted him as he mouthed his way across the gentle swell of her breasts, memorizing the shifts of her breath, the flex of her body and pitch of her voice as he found sensitive spots. His hands moved over her skin, tracing the indent of her waist, the delicate curve of her spine, fingers slipping under the band of the bra as his tongue dipped under the edge of the lace.

“Keith…” He shifted the cup of the bra aside, gratified when Pidge arched her back to press the nipple against his mouth. Eagerly, Keith opened his mouth and suckled, his hand reaching to cup her other breast, pinching at the nipple through the fabric.

Pidge squirmed against him, hips rolling as her fingers tangled in his hair and held him to her chest. “Harder,” she demanded.

Keith bit her nipple, worrying it lightly with his teeth and laving it with his tongue to soothe the sting, before shifting his attention to her other breast to repeat the action.

“We’re wearing too many clothes,” Pidge complained breathlessly, hands flying to the waistband of his sweatpants. “I can’t  _ feel _ you.”

“Okay,” was all Keith could really think to say, but it was apparently all the encouragement Pidge needed. 

She swung off of him, unceremoniously unbuttoning her pants and pushing them down her hips revealing matching lace underwear; despite the care she’d obviously put into selecting her lingerie, Keith barely had a moment to look (and he  _ would  _ like to have looked) before Pidge was reaching forward, tugging at his pants.

He lifted his hips, letting her guide them over his thighs. Once they were removed completely, Pidge was back on him, straddling his hips and staring openly at his reaction, now plainly visible though the boxer-briefs he was wearing.

Keith shivered as she traced his still-clothed erection, drawing her finger lightly up the centerline before touching the small damp spot where precome had been steadily welling up. Her fingernails danced lightly over the skin of his abdomen, toying with the waistband of his underwear as she watched his stomach muscles twitch in undisguised fascination.

Keith’s hands moved without his permission, heavy palms resting on the skin of her hips, watching the way her thighs parted across his body;, the delicate skin seemed paler, and more fragile-looking by the slash of vibrant red fabric, and he suddenly felt overly-large and unwieldy, too large and too clumsy and too  _ much _ next to Pidge’s delicate strength. 

Despite having been watching her, it was still a shock when she reached into the fly of his underwear and drew him out. He put it down to nerves. Those were normal; it wasn’t  _ his _ first time, but it was  _ their _ first time, and even if he’d never been particularly body-shy before, he couldn’t help wondering what she thought of him. 

He’d never really considered himself large (certainly not compared to some of the species they had encountered), but her hand was so  _ small _ that he was honestly concerned as he watched her fingers wrap around him, giving the shaft a few experimental pumps. Her eyes were wide as she watched more precome well up at the tip, glancing up at him with pupils blown wide as he shuddered at the feel of her gripping him. 

Keith watched in undisguised fascination as her fingertip slid over the tip, gathering the beaded liquid and bringing it to her mouth. “It’s...bitter,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“Um.”

Pidge paid no mind to his intelligent response; she was already distracted, studying him, tracing the veins and the head, measuring the length of him with her hand, watching the tip flush dark as his excitement mounted. Watching her fascination was  _ doing things _ to him, making his balls draw up tight against his body, and Keith tipped his head back, closing his eyes, breath deep as he tried to hold out until Pidge had satisfied her curiosity.

The idea backfired almost immediately; bared to her, eyes closed, all he could do was  _ experience her _ .

Light sensations on his stomach twitched and shuddered through him. His eyes flew open, and he couldn't help but groan at the sight that greeted them; Pidge leant into him, tongue flicking out to trace the line of his abs up, pressing up his chest and plump lips closing around his nipple, a mirror of his earlier attention to her.

Her tongue flicked, making him gasp, and she glanced up through light, half-lidded lashes with darkened eyes, assessing his reaction.

It was like fire straight to his groin. His hips flexed without thought, bringing the sensitive length of him into contact with her heat, the scrape of lace over sensitive flesh like delicate torture until he snapped his eyes shut. Taking deep breaths, Keith tried to get himself under control before he embarrassed himself.

“Note to self: Keith likes that,” Pidge murmured against the skin of his chest. The brush of her lips, the warmth of her breath fanning over him, was just enough to have him skirting the edge again.

“Pidge...” he choked.

Pidge hummed in vague acknowledgment, the sound vibvraiting through her throat against his chest; she further compounded his torture by lowering her hips, pressing his body into full contact with her clothed sex. She sniggered when a curse slipped from his lips as his length twitched against her.

He wasn't truly annoyed with the amusement his state provided her; not when she was leaning against him, the lace of her bra scraping against his sensitive chest, warm and alive and squirming deliciously as she shifted, resettling herself against him, hips rolling experimentally and she lined him up against her folds. 

Her sigh of satisfaction as he slid against her was almost enough to make up for the torture. Keith’s hips flexed of their own violation, an automatic response as his body urged him towards her, stopped by a red lace barrier and his head catching on her clit. 

Pidge’s experiments––moving faster or slower, shifting and settling under her own whims, sucks and nibbles of her kisses pressing to the hollow of his throat––nearly killed him. It felt like forever before she settled on a rhythm, and by then Keith was gritting his teeth in earnest, hands clutching at her as he tried desperately to hold his orgasm at bay.

“ _ Pidge _ ,” he tried to warn her tersely, “Pidge, I’m gonna—”

It was too late; the steady rocking, the clutch of her legs and the heat of her body sent him toppling over the edge, a groan trampling out of his mouth as all the tension that he’d been holding at bay abruptly  _ snapped,  _ leaving him helpless as the warmth of his come spurted between them, smearing on her panties and over his boxers.

“Wha— No,” Pidge said, dismayed as she looked between them, and Keith felt his cheeks heat in reflexive embarrassment. “But I didn’t…”

Keith stared at her, momentarily confused. When he got it, he privately resolved to punch any of her former boyfriends that he ever came across. “We’re not through.”

“We’re not?” she asked plaintively.

Punch them.  _ In the face _ , Keith decided.

“No,” he said firmly, righteous indignation on his partner’s behalf overcoming his mortification as he shifted her off of him, standing up to shuck his sticky underwear and drop them on the floor before crawling back onto the bed.

Keith was pretty sure that the image Pidge presented, petulant and debauched with her tousled hair and come-stained panties was one he would take to his grave. She’d automatically rolled over and Keith’s heart was doing horrible things to his chest at her earnest, curious expression as she watched him with parted thighs and blown pupils.

Determined to make it good for her, he urged her back, nosing at the lacy hem of her panties and pressing kisses to her twitching abdominal muscles as he peeled them off of her. Dropping them over the side of the bed, he trailed gentle hands up the inside of her thighs. 

She was sweet and spicy at her center, the combined scents of her arousal, his own release and something musky and uniquely  _ her _ sending his head spinning as he gently slid a finger over her; gathering the moisture at the center and drawing it up, tracing her folds and circling her clit as she squirmed beneath him, hips flexing as she attempted to follow his finger.

Previous partners had taught him that the clitoris was the center of female pleasure, but it could also be overstimulated, so he took his time, using his fingers and tongue to tease her and press on the gland underneath, waiting until she was twitching, wanton and wet, before sliding a finger into her. 

Pidge took it easily, and he added a second, rubbing the pads of his fingers along her inner walls, scissoring them gently as he toyed with her clit; she was amazingly responsive, moaning his name, threats, and entreaties as her fingers clutched at his hair. He could feel her tightening around him, her hips and legs flexing as he increased the pressure to the swollen gland hidden in her folds. 

He was already responding, feeling himself hardening again against the sheets as he pressed kisses to the crease of her thighs and the sensitive skin he could reach.

“Please,” she panted, hips bucking helplessly as she squirmed, trying to pull him closer. “Please, I want…”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, dragging himself up, pressing kisses to the quivering flesh of her stomach and chest, stopping to worship her breast with his mouth and fingers, wanting to feel her skin against his and thrilled with his newfound freedom as he climbed his way to her mouth. 

His dick was hanging hot and heavy between his legs as he braced himself over her, trying not to crush her, and his free hand trailed back down, brushing over her ribs and stomach to pluck at her clit, gratified at the way she lifted to let him hook his fingers inside of her. 

He paused there, just inside, reveling in the softness and heat of her, rubbing the pads of his fingers along the edges of the tissues that had relaxed under his ministrations. His hips flexed, his fully erect length rubbing along her thigh. “Can I…?”

_ “Yes.” _

Pidge’s empathic response was accompanied by enthusiastic squirming as she tried to rearrange herself near his dick.

Keith grinned into her neck, elated and gratified, then pulled back, ignoring her mewl of protest to sit back between her legs.

_ No, _ he revised his earlier thought,  _ this _ was the sight he’d carry with him. Pidge, bared of everything except herself, naked, flushed with arousal and spread out beneath him like an offering; the sight of her before him urged Keith to pause, to run his hand over her hips, her skin, to make sure she was  _ real _ .

“Brace your feet a bit, lift up for me,” he murmured breathlessly, watching as her hips flexed and opened for him. Scooting forward, he set a knee under her, using his hand to spread her folds, revealing the pink skin of her core. 

He gripped himself, squeezing firmly even as he gently set himself at her opening, watching in awe at the way her body stretched to accommodate him, flexing and engulfing the tip of him in her wet heat, and acutely grateful that he’d come earlier. 

If he hadn’t the sight of his dick sinking slowly into her, sucked in by her own squirming, would have done him in. He was already incredibly hard, aroused beyond measure at the feel of her clenching around him. He glanced up to gauge her reaction, but found her staring down at where they were now joined, face flushed and eyes half-lidded, mouth bitten-red and lips swollen as she stared.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, the words out of his mouth before he could censor them, hanging between them as she glanced up at him. Her pupils were so wide that her eyes were nearly black, and her face flushed darker as she smiled at him.

“C’mere,” she demanded, holding her arms out and wiggling her fingers expressively. Grinning, Keith leaned forward, letting the movement of their bodies press him further inside of her, suddenly,  _ stupidly _ happy at the situation. He was in the cradle of her thighs, her arms wrapping around him, her voice murmuring meaningless platitudes in his ear, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be as they moved together.

She was like a vice around him. So tight that it took some work to find the best position, but once he’d managed, all the giddy elation fled his mind. His only focus was the burning desire to hear all of the noises Pidge could make as they pursued their pleasure together. 

Keith slid a hand under her, encouraging her back to arch so his groin would continue to rub against her clit, thankful that she was so close to losing control. Almost too soon, he was skirting the razor-edge of pleasure himself, panting as he leaned over her, straining to mouth at the tip of her breast as she writhed against him.

She came with a cry, back arching sharply as she clamped down around him, squeezing him as he struggled to maintain his rhythm with her legs gripping his hips and her inner walls spasming around him.

Keith knew he was going to lose it; he could feel himself unraveling even as the pleasure continued to wind him impossibly tight. Pidge was loose-limbed around him, still moving to meet his thrusts, but with none of the earlier urgency in the motion. Straightening, he buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent and mouthing at the skin there, losing himself in the wet heat of her, driving forward until he spilled in her with a cry, clutching her as he came undone.

All he could do afterwards was lay there, trying to hold some of his weight so he didn’t collapse like a marionette and crush her as he gasped and panted against her neck. He was suddenly and uncomfortably aware that the lights were all still on, that the door was probably unlocked, and that they were sticky and naked on top of his rumpled sheets as he softens and slowly slides out of her.

“That was awesome,” Pidge mumbled against his shoulder, and none of the discomforts mattered. Her leg fumbled, doing something weird near his feet, and then Keith felt a sheet being slowly inched up his calf. “Let’s do it again.”

Keith huffed a laugh into her shoulder, reaching down to grab the fabric, ignoring the cold discomfort of separating from her in favor of pulling the sheet and blanket up around them.

“I don’t know what you’ve experienced with refractory time,” he said, rolling off of her and pulling her against him “But I’m going to need a bit more of a break.”

“That’s fine,” Pidge sighed. She stretched her toes against his shins as she arched, and then curled into him. Her eyes were still uncommonly dark in her face as she blinked sleepily. “Can you cut the lights?”

Keith nodded, reaching above him into the alcove above his bed. The clock sitting there indicated that it wasn’t even close to his normal bedtime, but a comfortable lethargy was stealing over him, so he slapped at the switches, and plunged the room into darkness.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Keith woke sometime later, groggy and unsure of what was happening, but half-hard already. Pidge was moving restlessly against him, still sticky from their first round, but inexplicably slick all the same. Her hand curled around him, stroking him to full hardness as he slipped his fingers inside of her, checking to make sure that she can take him comfortably. She hummed as he fingered her, exploring her warmth, hooking a leg over his hip to draw him to her. 

He teased her a little, batting her hand away to rub the tip of himself along her damp folds. An impatient heel dug into his thigh, but he continued until her nails were digging into his shoulder and the cries blossoming from her lips became almost sub-vocal growls. Grinning into the darkness, he rolled onto his back, guiding her over him and letting her set the pace.

It took a bit of finangling, but eventually Pidge arranged him where she wanted him, notching the head of his dick against her and sliding down onto him with a breathy little groan that stroked his ego and made him grin at her in the dark. He was content to let her do what she wanted, happy to have his hands free to play with her breasts and rub her clit as their orgasms rolled over them in lazy waves.

This time, the silence wasn’t awkward after, and Keith fell asleep to Pidge’s gentle snores as she laid atop him.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The next time Keith awoke, it was morning, and he was alone.

Not that it was  _ morning _ , per say. Not in the traditional sense. On a ship in the middle of outer space, there’s no real measurement of days and nights, but the clocks on the ships were all kept on the same 24-hour day cycle as Earth, and his clock was currently reading 0645.

It’s not late, though it’s later than when he usually woke. Still, the lack of Pidge in his bed is mildly concerning: he remembered having a vague thought about waking up with her last night, and getting breakfast together. Normally he would have been up and in the gym about fifteen minutes ago, but today was his day off, with no real duties outside of his personal obligations.

He laid in bed, wondering why Pidge left, and debating on whether or not to go looking for her (was that okay? Were they at the point where that would be considered normal? Keith suddenly realised that they may have skipped a lot of steps in their maybe-relationship). But as he sat up, sticky, vaguely sore and feeling gross, he decided that showering first may be the better option.

_ Then _ , he told himself, if she wasn’t back, he’d go looking for Pidge.

The next point of concern was during his shower, when he noticed his hand come away from his privates tinged red. It wasn’t not much, just a smear really, but it caused him to stop and stare as vague concern tilted into genuine worry.  _ He  _ wasn’t bleeding, and Pidge hadn’t been on her cycle, so where did the blood come from? Had he hurt her? He didn’t  _ think _ so, and she certainly hadn’t been complaining, but…

Keith scrubbed a little faster.

Pidge wasn’t in her room, and she wasn’t in the dining hall. Keith was heading towards Pidge’s lab when he ran into Lance.

“Hey man,” Lance waves him down, halting his progress. “I’m going to need the box of… _ Whoa. _ ”

“What?” Keith squinted at Lance in confusion, but Lance’s eyes were on his neck, eyebrows climbing towards his hairline. 

“Nice hickey,” Lance drawled, gesturing vaguely at the side of his own neck. “So, uh… How many of those space-Reese’s did you eat?”

“None, why?” Keith asked, shaking his head.

“So you just found someone to maul your neck all on your own?” Lance’s face twisted into a grimace. “Uh, yeah… Maybe cover that up before you find Pidge.”

“What? Why? Is she alright? Where is she?” Keith wasn’t even aware that he’d stepped into Lance’s space until the other man backed up against the wall, surprise written across his features.

“You… You didn’t hear?” Lance asked. 

“Hear  _ what? _ ” Keith demanded, completely exasperated.

“Chill out, Samurai, Pidge is  _ fine, _ ” Lance snapped. “She’s up in the medical labs helping oversee the  _ re- _ testing of those not-chocolates we got a few days ago. Turns out how they affect humans—and a few other species—is not by causing aggression, but by acting as an  _ aphrodisiac.” _

“What.” Keith could  _ feel _ the blood draining out of his face, leaving him vaguely light-headed as Lance blinked at him.

“Yeah, you…” Lance gestured at his neck again. “There’s more than a few people walking around today who had a  _ great _ night last night—or an awful one, I guess, if they were stuck alone. Either way, the labs are busy, and Pidge is on the warpath. Looking at your neck, I kind of thought you’d been with someone, so I thought you knew.”

“No.” Keith scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted and heart-sick. “No, I… They were gone when I woke up. I was looking for them to, you know, talk.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry man.” Lance grimaced. “But, still, if you’re heading to the labs, just… cover up your neck before Pidge gets a look at it, okay? She doesn’t look much better than you do, and I don’t think she needs you rubbing some other person in her face. Also, I need that box; I’m collecting whatever is left from the team.”

“I don’t have it. I gave it to Pidge,” Keith said wearily. At Lance’s confusion, he continued. “I’m half- _ Galra _ , remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lance mused. “Well, then no worries. But, seriously, hide that hand grenade on your neck.”

“How?” Keith asked, irritated. 

He didn’t really care about a freaking hickey on his neck, and didn’t know why it’s presence would upset Pidge, except as a reminder that her team lead, who she counted on to take care of her and keep her safe, had effectively taken advantage of her when she’d been  _ drugged. _

On second thought, covering it might be a good idea.

“I don’t know, just… Get your jacket?” Lance suggested. “It has a pretty high collar on it, and that should cover it. Luckily, our uniforms have pretty high necks.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” Keith mumbled.

“So, um, who caught you, anyway?” Lance asked. 

“What do you mean?” Keith asked.

“I mean, you’ve had a crush on Pidge for… ages, now,” Lance replied. “You still were doing the disgusting pining thing  _ two _ days ago. And I know you—there might be a lot of women panting after you, but you don’t notice them. So, if you didn’t know about the chocolates, it’s because you were  _ willingly _ with whoever convinced you to spend the night with them.”

Keith didn’t say anything, and Lance frowned. 

“Unless…” he frowned tentatively. “…You weren’t, um, willing? I can’t think of anyone who could take you out, but… Are you alright? Nobody, um,  _ forced _ you, did they?”

“No Lance,” Keith said wearily. “Nobody forced me. I just… I didn’t realize they were  _ drugged, _ ” he admits bitterly.

Lance stares at him hard, brow furrowing in confusion for a few moments before something apparently clicks. His mouth drops open in shock. “ _ Oh _ .”

“Yeah.”

“So, you and Pidge…?”

_ “Yeah.” _

“Huh.” Lance rocks back on his heels. “That is not the way I thought things would work out.”

“What are you going on about?” Keith demanded, exasperated. “You were the one who told me that if she knew she’d probably either jump me or electrocute me; I thought you’d gotten fed up and told her, and she’d gone the ‘ _ not _ electrocuting me’ route.”

“Uh, no man,” Lance says, looking amused. “But now I kind of think you  _ really _ need to talk to Pidge.”

Keith winced; Lance patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, and moved on.

Keith did return to his room to get his jacket, turning the collar up to hide the bruise peeking out of his shirt collar, before resolutely trudging back towards the medical labs.

Pidge wasn't there anymore by the time he arrived, but Shiro was, somehow looking both annoyed and incredibly relaxed as he watched a team of doctors through the plexiglass window in the hallway.

“Hey, have you seen Pidge?” Keith asked, peering through the window. No familiar green uniform was visible.

“No, she left a little while ago,” Shiro told him, glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes, then pausing and turning to face him fully.

“Do you know where she went?” Keith asked.

“I’m not sure,” Shiro replied. “Sam told me that she was pulling people out of their beds around six, so I think she just went to rest. Maybe get some breakfast — I don’t know if she’s eaten yet.”

“She was the one who sounded the alarm?” Keith asked curiously, hurt that Pidge hadn’t woken him up to help, but... Then again, maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. She probably didn’t trust him anymore, not after he’d failed to notice her acting so out of character.

“Yeah,” Shiro nodded. “Not that people weren’t starting to figure that out for themselves, but she’s the one who connected it to the Lacertan gifts and started the process of locating where all the boxes were at. It was  _ chaos _ for a while.”

“Alright.” Keith nodded, knowing that there wasn’t really anything he could do, except maybe stay out of the way. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Hey, uh…” Keith paused as Shiro turned to him, bionic arm reaching out to catch him as he turned to leave. “…You’re okay, right? Did you eat any of those chocolates? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“Uh. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m half-Galra, remember?” Shiro’s wince said he hadn’t, but Keith barreled on. “I’m more worried about  _ Pidge _ . I gave my box to her, since I didn’t know how they would affect me.”

“Shit,” Shiro swore. “Well, knowing how much she likes peanut butter, I guess I’m glad she only ate three of them… Though, judging by how the initial labs are looking, that was probably still enough to send her right over the edge.”

Now it was Keith’s turn to wince.

“I’ll find you later; I’m sure there’s going to be a meeting about this, anyway,” Shrio continued. “Just… Go make sure the team is okay for now? Please.”

“Sure thing,” Keith said, nodding as he ducked out of the medical bay.

Pidge wasn’t in any of her usual haunts: the lab was empty, Hunk was still in bed, the lounge she preferred was devoid of any and all green paladins and her door was securely locked. She wasn’t answering her comm, either. Finally, stymied, Keith went back to his room.

Pidge was sitting at his desk, determinedly fiddling with…something. It was metal, and there were wires, which was all Keith could determine. She was wearing her green garrison uniform, her hair was neatly combed, and her ever-present glasses were perched securely on her nose once more.

“Pidge,” Keith sounded relieved, even to his own ears. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Pidge glanced up at him, flushed abruptly scarlet, and stared determinedly back down at her hands. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been…here.”

“I need to talk to you,” Keith said.

“Same.”

Keith waits a moment, but when no words are forthcoming, he steels himself.  _ ‘You’re the leader,’ _ he reminds himself.  _ ‘You can do this.’ _

“I’m sorry.”

Keith paused, his mouth halfway open, feeling suddenly disconcerted that the words he’d intended to speak had emerged from Pidge’s throat.

“What?” he blurted.

“I’m sorry,” Pidge repeated, still staring down at the device clutched in her hands. Her fingers were still and white where she gripped it. “I… About yesterday. What I did was… It was pretty unforgivable, but I hope you can forgive me, anyway.”

“Wh— Pidge?” Keith wanted to move closer, but didn't quite dare, so he shuffled to the side nervously, leaving the path to the door open. Pidge isn’t in her armor, but her ever-present bayard strapped to her side. If she wants out of the door,  _ he _ isn’t going to be the fool who stands between her and the exit. “What are  _ you _ sorry about?” he asked, confused.

Pidge’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing at the odd inflection. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Keith said earnestly. “If anyone should be apologizing, I’m pretty sure it’s me.”

“I…what?” Pidge’s nose wrinkled. “What? Keith, I… I  _ assaulted _ you. I forced myself into the room and, and—” Pidge breathed out sharply, focusing back down on the thing in her hands, tilting it as she prodded something on its side. “—you didn’t want that. And I’m sorry I did that to you.”

“Pidge.  _ Katie, _ ” Keith repeated when she flinched at his voice. “You… You didn’t do anything wrong. You were  _ drugged. _ And I… I didn’t notice,” Keith admitted, ashamed. “I wanted it to be true, so I didn’t pay attention to how out of character you were. I should have stopped, and stopped you, but… But I wanted it, so I didn’t. Please, forgive me.” Keith can’t look up to see the expression on her face, so he stares at his boots and ignores the way his voice cracks with emotion.

“You… Wanted it to be true.” Pidge’s voice is flat.

Keith can’t speak, so he settles for nodding mutely.

_ "You _ wanted it to be true." There was an odd inflection to Pidge's voice that Keith couldn't place. "Really?"

"Yes." Keith grit his teeth, forcing the words out. It hurt, more than he expected, to have to admit that aloud. It felt like a dream dying; after this, it may be all they can do to salvage their team, nevermind a relationship.

"You like me?" 

Pidge's voice is doing that  _ thing _ again, where there's something in there that he's missing, but when he looked up at her, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

"Yeah," he settled on saying. "I… When you came to the door, I thought… I thought Lance had told you.

"Lance?" Pidge's head tilted, and Keith recognized the thoughtful frown as her putting pieces of a puzzle together.

"He, uh, he'd been teasing me," Keith admitted. "The implication was kind of that he would say something if I didn't, and he'd even said that you would either jump me or zap me when you found out. So..." he trails off, shrugging.

"So you thought I'd found out, and had gone the not-electrocuting-you route." Pidge hummed.

"Yeah. But, that's… It's not an excuse. I should have checked," Keith told her.

"I don't think I gave you much of a chance," Pidge admitted.

"Think?" Keith asked sharply.

"Last night was… a little hazy," she admitted, lips twisting sardonically. "I remember most of it,” she rushed on at the dismayed expression on his face, “but... I don't know, it was kind of like being drunk. Some of the details just aren't there. But I... I think I remember you asking if Lance had talked to me or something."

"You said ' _ or something _ ,'" Keith assured her. "But I should have confirmed," he added bitterly.

"Keith," Pidge sighed, leaning back in his chair as she set the odd contraption on his desk, laying her hands in her lap, "I don't blame you."

"You should!" Keith frowned at her severely. "Pidge, I... You were  _ drugged.  _ I should have noticed! What kind of leader am I if I don't notice something like that? I… I took  _ advantage _ of you. I r–– Ra—” Keith hunched his shoulders miserably, unable to say it.

_ "Stop,"  _ Pidge snapped, her eyes flashing behind the lenses of her glasses. "You did  _ not." _

Keith opened his mouth to refute, but Pidge's gaze narrowed dangerously, and his mouth snapped shut.

"Keith, I..." Pidge glanced off to the side, huffing irritably as red stained her cheeks. "I knew what I was doing. Mostly."

"What?"

"I'm saying… I could have stayed in my room and, uh, taken care of things myself," Pidge cleared her throat uncomfortably, and Keith watched in fascination as the blush creeped down her neck. "I wasn't… I wasn't  _ out of control. _ I still had free will, and even if I, uh, made decisions I might not otherwise have made, I wasn't as bad as you think. I wasn't insensible."

"That doesn't excuse—” 

“— _ either _ of us," Pidge said firmly. "Neither one of us made a good decision last night, but... I'm starting to think it wasn't the wrong one, either."

"What?" Keith asked. His heart was in his throat, beating uncomfortably as he waited for her next words.

"I was drugged, and bold, and incredibly horny," Pidge said bluntly. "But I wasn't, like, in the halls begging  _ anyone _ to fuck me. Neither was anyone else: we were all coherent enough to make our own decisions.”

Keith flushed. "So, you're saying..." he trailed off, uncertain.

"I wanted it," Pidge said bluntly. "But I wanted it with _ you. _ "

Keith felt like the air had been punched out of him. "Oh."

"I've..." Pidge licked her lips. "...I've liked you for a while," she admitted in a rush. "I just, uh, wasn't sure you felt the same."

"Really?" Keith asked hopefully.

Pidge shrugged. "So, I wasn't… I wasn't as bad as all that. You certainly didn't  _ rape _ me. I was willing. I was just... I was worried that I'd forced  _ you. _ "

"Oh. Hah, no," Keith admitted, feeling almost giddy with relief. "No, you didn't. I just… I thought you liked me. And it was great, but then I woke up and you weren't there. And then Lance told me what those not-chocolates  _ did _ and..." he trailed off shrugging. "I thought I'd hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me." Pidge shook her head.

Keith pressed his lips together. "There was blood."

"Oh." The flush returned to Pidge's cheeks. "Well, I might be a little sore. But I'm not, um, injured. Just… unused to, er..." she huffed out a breath. "It was my first time."

Keith cringed. "I'm sorry."

"It's not ideal," Pidge muttered, scrubbing her hand over her face. "And I reserve the right to be upset about it. Later. But I'm not upset at  _ you _ , alright?"

Keith grimaced. "I'm not... I'm not okay with that. With having taken that from you. I'm sorry."

Pidge shook her head. "I'll get over it. You could..." she glanced at him shyly. "...You could, maybe, help me have some better memories?"

Hope was a fragile thing, blooming in Keith's chest. "Are you sure? After I... You know."

Pidge considered. "The whole situation was... Well, it wasn't ideal. But I can't really bring myself to  _ regret _ it, you know? I enjoyed it. As far as first times go, it was pretty awesome, despite how it was initiated. And... Well, we're teammates.  _ I know you, _ Keith. You'd never take advantage of me on purpose. And I hope you know me well enough to know I'd never pressure you like that, either. Neither of us were  _ right _ , but I don't think we were  _ wrong. _ "

"What if..." Keith licked his lips. "Can we… start over?"

Pidge's eyebrow kicked up.

"What happened was," Keith sighed. "It was backwards. I should have just asked you out ages ago. I was scared—I  _ am _ scared—but I let that stop me. So, can I, uh... Would you like to… go on a date with me, sometime?"

His cheeks were hot, and Keith knew he was probably blushing so bad he was as red as his uniform, but he forced himself to look Pidge in the eye.

"I can't take you anywhere fancy," he told her. "But if you'd like to join me in the chow hall, maybe we can have dinner together? Just the two of us?"

Pidge tapped her chin and hummed, but her lips were twitching up at the corner. "Only if you let me hold your hand under the table."

"I'd even let you hold my hand in the hallway," Keith said in mock-solemnity, biting his lip to keep from grinning.

Pidge smirked, pushing out of the chair and sauntering over, wiggling her bare hand in his face like a dare. "Prove it."

Keith took her hand. "A fresh start?"

Pidge nodded. "A  _ better _ start."

And it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to Ncj700, who beta'd this entire freaking thing and fixed all of my tenses (which, really, were more fucked than Pidge). Also to N1t3sh4d3, who helped beta and let me use her as a sounding board for ideas. 
> 
> Not going to lie, this one was a beast to write, and I'm not completely happy with it. I've been stressed and depressed, and Ncj, Luce, and Nightshade's help was all invaluable.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Kidge-Kat, for betaing this, and LuceCiel because her art is awesome.
> 
> Art link: https://twitter.com/luceciel_art/status/1226696159374147584?s=21


End file.
